


You Said You'd Grow Old With Me

by kimmsie



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Character Death, Other, Post-Canon, This shit hurted to write, but when I do, i dont normally write angst, like folks this is just plain angst, me at 12 am: im going to fuck my discord servers entire shit up, nobody:, oh boy, so i hope it hurts as much to read too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimmsie/pseuds/kimmsie
Summary: Lydia's promises fail to come true as the Maitlands are left alone in the old house at the top of the hill, waiting for her return.
Relationships: Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland & Lydia Deetz, Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	You Said You'd Grow Old With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song of the same title by Michael Schulte.

Lydia moves out of the house the same year that she turned eighteen. She's enrolled at an art school in Chicago, specializing in photography. The day she gets her acceptance letter, the house is ecstatic. Charles is the most emotional that Barbara has ever seen him, and not one eye is dry for their daughter's success; Delia proposes a toast, and they all drink champagne (even Lydia, just a little).

The day she leaves for college, Adam holds Barbara's hand at the front door as they watch Charles and Delia pull out of the driveway, heading for the airport. "I'm going to miss her," Barbara says, teary-eyed, leaning heavily against Adam's shoulder.

"She'll be back, honey." Adam reassures her, gently rubbing his thumb over her hand. "Not a doubt in my mind."

Sure enough, whenever she can visit, Lydia is in town. She shows up for nearly every holiday, and always makes sure to be there for Halloween, much to the Maitlands' protests. "You'll miss classes, sweetie!" Barbara insists while the three of them drape faux cobwebs over banisters and attach plastic spiders to the ceiling.

Lydia just laughs and rolls her eyes, flicking one of the bugs at Adam. "That's fine, Barbara, I can catch up. Besides, who am I to miss the making of the best haunted house in the neighborhood?"

"Uh, I'd say the best in the _world_ ," Adam retorts, the fake spider wiggling its tiny legs to life and crawling down his arm, much to Lydia's amusement.

Her third Christmas out of the house, she brings home a girlfriend. The family is over the moon to meet her. Adam has a joke for every situation, Barbara bakes one of her apple pies, Delia decorates a tree with a ridiculously flammable amount of string lights, and Charles gives everyone surprisingly heartfelt gifts (just as he does every year). He even has one for the new girl.

The Maitlands learn that it's hard to watch people grow old. The Deetzes' hair greys with time. They start to slow down, despite Barbara and Adam looking identical to the day that they died. Charles starts to find it hard, getting up and down all the stairs in the old house. Delia, though she doesn't lose an ounce of her spunk, just can't be as lively anymore.

Lydia is there up until the day that they relocate to an elderly home.

It has to be done. The Maitlands can't drive to get the groceries, let alone be seen to buy them, and it's too unsafe for Charles or Delia to be driving on their own, along with all the other factors of age that play into needing assistance.

The Maitlands make absolutely sure it'll be somewhere reputable. Lydia promises over and over that they'll be safe and happy, and that she'll bring constant updates back to them. She takes custody of the house, and the Maitlands keep it clean. They don't need to eat, so it's okay when the food runs out. They're happy just to keep everything nice for every time their daughter comes to visit.

And visit she does – as much as possible with her job and new life in LA – and it doesn't even seem like a long time to Adam and Barbara. Time moves differently when you're dead, after all. She always stays with them overnight when she stops by, telling them all about her apartment and her girlfriend (yes, the one from that third Christmas), and her exhibits.

"We're so proud of you," Barbara says, sitting on the couch across from Lydia, her hands clasped together with Adam's.

"We really are." Her husband emphasizes, and Lydia smiles so brightly that they feel okay, having to be alone. When she isn’t around, they have each other. And when she is around, they feel like a real family, a family with a girl – no, a woman – out in the world making progress and art and movements that could change everything.

The last time they see Lydia is the same day they find out that Charles and Delia have died. On the same night, both having passed in their sleep. "It's almost like it was planned," Lydia says, though she knows it wasn't. They all know it wasn't.

"Did you see them?" Barbara asks softly.

Lydia shakes her head. "I got there too late. They had already crossed." She stays an extra few nights, allowing herself and the Maitlands to grieve. Then she's gone, with the usual hugs, the usual goodbyes, the see-you-soons.

Months pass.

Barbara grows plants in a window box garden over the spring and into the summer.

Adam watches the leaves brown and start to drift across the lawn from the attic window.

They sit on the couch together, the snow blowing outside, staring into the unlit fireplace. "I miss her." Barbara says, her voice breaking. "I miss them."

Adam draws her close. They're both just as frigid as the winds whipping around the corners of the house. "We could always draw a door." He reminds her.

"I want to wait." She responds, burying her face into the curve of his shoulder. He kisses the top of his head gently and closes his eyes. He'll wait as long as she needs.

Years go by. The only way they can tell the amount of time passing is the changing of seasons. The house starts to fall apart. They can only clean so much by themselves, and they can't fix appliances or leaky ceilings or the mold that starts to grow in the basement, black and accompanied by a dreadful, sickening smell. But still, they wait.

They wait until the day that the bulldozers come. They don't notice something is happening until the floor is shaking underneath them and a loud mechanical whirring screams through the air. "They're tearing it down," Adam says, so he and Barbara go to the first floor.

They watch as the house comes down around them. Time spent laughing, growing, on their own and with another family – all of it reduced to rubble and debris. "Look," Barbara says, picking up a piece of chipped pottery that lays among it all, and collapses to her knees, broken. Adam wraps himself around her as much as he can, protecting her from the outside eyes that don't even notice the two ghosts, sitting in the middle of the wreckage.

"I think it's time to leave, Barbara," Adam murmurs softly, once his wife has dried her tears. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of chalk from so many years before. "No walls, but we'll make do." He smiles lopsidedly at Barbara, who sniffles and returns a meek smile of her own, wiping her eyes. He traces a rectangular outline on the battered ground and knocks.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Yet nothing happens. "What?" He says aloud and tries again. The door doesn't shift inward, there is no green light, nothing to signify that anyone connected to the Netherworld acknowledges their attempt to cross over. "We're stuck," He drops the chalk. "Our house is gone. Everyone is gone. And we're stuck."

Barbara pulls at her hair, a raw and guttural scream ripping from her throat, something horrible and instinctual that devolves into sobs that wrack her body. Adam kneels in the dust, shellshocked. He puts a hand on his wife's shaking back, unable to gain the momentum needed to comfort her fully. "Why?" She cries, and the sound is like grating nails on a chalkboard, a horrible cacophony of pain from someone Adam loves so dearly.

Everyone is on the other side, waiting, and they're stuck here, in the deserted wasteland of a deteriorated house. Adam curls himself back around Barbara, attempting to calm her in a way he isn't sure he'll be able to. "It's okay," He whispers. "I'm here." As Barbara quiets, a sound in the distance echoes above the ghosts.

The shifting of sand, the grating of teeth, and the hissing tongue of a creature larger than life itself and getting closer every minute.


End file.
